You, me and Irene
by FrancescaBoscorelli
Summary: AU in which Joan and Sherlock are together as a couple when the events of episode 23 took place. Joan feels conflicted about Irene's presence in Sherlock's life, but she's willing to accept her because of him. I suck at summaries! Read and Review. Part of the "Moments" series.


**A/N: Okay so I had my doubts while writing this fic, it took me longer than the others and I wasn't even sure about this...I'm still not completely satisfied. I hope you like it though and please don't forget to read my other fics that are part of my "Moments" series. **

**Spoilers: episode 1x23 if you haven't watched it. **

**Fran**

**Hugs to my beta EuphoriaLily**

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She shouldn't feel threatened by anything or anyone, because she knows their relationship is solid. She trusts him, he trusts her, there's no question about that. But she can't help but being scared at Irene being alive, especially at Sherlock's reaction when he saw her again. It's understandable to her because he loved Irene, and he thought she was dead which caused him to break. The last thing Joan wants is for him to feel that all over again, and that is the main reason why she can't help but feel uneasy at her presence.

His eyes are glued to the hospital window of the room where Irene is lying. Neither of them is able to hear what the doctor is saying, but neither of them cares; the expression on Irene's face is the only thing Sherlock is worried about, Joan can tell. She is disoriented, she looks lost and out of this world.

"I'm here, if you want to talk." Joan tells him, taking small careful steps towards where he is sitting. He never looks at her, never says a word. Joan feels her heart crushing little by little inside her chest, she can't help but feel like he is slowly slipping away from her.

Before she can start a conversation again, Captain Gregson walks in. She can tell he is a shocked as they were when Irene was found, alive.

"What did you find in the house?" Joan asks him as he approaches them.

"Not much of anything, yet CSU's there with Bell." He eyes the room, where Irene lies against the pillow."Is that Irene?" Captain asks them. Sherlock, still unresponsive blinks a couple of times which leads Joan to answer.

"Yes, that's her."

"Have you spoken to the doctor yet?" Gregson speaks directly to Sherlock, who remains quiet. Gregson exchanges a confused look with Joan, who shrugs when she can't quite voice her concern with him.

"No, he's still talking to her…"

The door opens just in time, the doctor walking out of the room with a fret look on his face.

"How is she?" Joan is the first one to ask, noticing how (once again) Sherlock remains quiet. He is probably still in shock because it is odd to her seeing him so silent.

"Your friend is fine, physically." the doctor explains. "But if I had to put a name in it, I would say that she's suffering from severe post-traumatic stress."

"What happened to her?" Joan asks.

"She doesn't remember everything clearly, but she was abducted, moved from place to place. There were five that she told me about and then she was subjected to advanced psychological pressure tactics." the doctor speaks. "Seems that somebody had set out to systematically destroy this young woman's personality and for the life of me, I cannot give you a reason why."

"Did she talk about the people who took her?" Gregson questions him.

"She dealt with only one person. He named himself Mr Stapleton" the doctor continues. "By day, he tinkered with her mind, left white peonies by her bed at night. Punishment, reward, all designed to make Ms Adler psychologically dependent on her captor. I will give her a sedative and we're gonna keep her on psych hold for a few days."

"Thank you, doctor." Joan tells him and the man disappears behind the door.

"It's odd to hear this man saying he doesn't know why this happened to Irene." Sherlock speaks. Joan watches him, his voice full of emotion and sadness. "It was because of me."

"Sherlock…" she interrupts him, taking a seat next to him. She reaches out for his hand, holding it tightly between hers as he speaks and thankfully, he didn't move away.

"Moriarty…wanted me to believe she was dead." he whispers, swallowing hard. "Let me mourn her, get addicted to heroin. And then when I made steps towards recovery, to a brand new me, he sends her back. How did I not know she was alive? What did I miss? I don't…I don't understand."

"Sherlock, this isn't…"

"Don't." he stops her, eyes still glued to the window, watching as Irene sleeps peacefully against the pillow. "Don't tell me this isn't my fault, because you know it is. She could have been safe, she could have had a life it wasn't for me. I destroyed her."

"Irene has been hurt badly, but she's alive and she can get better." she tells him. "You can help her."

"Yes, of course." he murmured, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Whatever she needs."

"Besides, we've got clues. We can go back to the house and get the man who did this to her…"

"I don't think I should consult on this case." he speaks, stopping her midsentence. "It's…too personal. I think it's better for me to sit this one out."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I need to look after her." he whispers. "I don't think I'd be much use, Moriarty is clearly smarter than I am. A man should know when he's beaten…"

He gets up, slowly letting her hand go and walking directly towards Irene's room. She watches him as he stands at the foot of her bed, and just stares at her sleeping form. Something deep within her breaks, not because of them. No, because she fears he will be broken again.  
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**THREE DAYS LATER.**

She doesn't complain when Sherlock suggests Irene should stay with them, partially because she thinks it is in fact the best option. It doesn't mean, though, she is absolutely hundred percent that having Irene living under the same roof is the world's brightest idea, but she reminds herself constantly that she is doing this, agreeing with him, because she wants to see him happy and right now to him what made him happy is keeping Irene safe and content.

"How do you think she's doing?" she asks him. He eyes her sideways while he waits for the kettle to boil.

"She seems less disoriented than she was before." he tells her, turning around as he speaks. "She has a few questions about this Moriarty character, but don't we all?"

"Should we talk about a plan?"

"I look after her."

"No, I mean…" she sighs, shifting her weight from side to side. "Should we talk about how this is going to work? I mean, I want to help in any way I can but I…do you even want me around?"

Sherlock frowns, stepping away from the cook and moving closer to her. He is visibly confused at her inquiry.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's going to be a bit crowded in here, maybe the best option is for me to stay with Emily for a while…so you can focus solely on protecting her."

"No, this is our home." he told her. "I want you here with me. I need you here with me. I know this is hard and confusing, but taking care of Irene while we figure this out, doesn't mean I want you away."

"You told me, not long ago, that I was a distraction for you. I don't want to be that right now when you need to focus on something important. Irene has to be your number one priority."

"So are you." he states. "I need you by my side, not far away so get that thought out of your head, alright? What I do need for you to do is to work. We've been in the hospital for three days and if you want to help find the man who took Irene, you need to get cracking."

"You want me to leave now?"

"I don't _WANT_ you to leave, but I think it would be right if you assist Captain Gregson soon."

She sighs, hesitating whether she should listen to him or not. Part of her thinks he is right about starting the investigation as soon as possible, but the other part wants to stay by his side every second she has. She isn't quite sure which one she should listen to first.

He must have sensed her hesitation because the next second his arms circle her waist, pushing her body towards his, her hands firmly against his chest feeling the beating on his heart against her palm. His lips cover hers in tender kiss, she responds immediately, her hands travelling across his warm chest and into his neck.

She is the first one to pull away, slowly and gradually, only when it suddenly hits her they were not alone anymore and Irene, no matter how tired she is, can walk out of her room in any minute.

"Are you going to be okay alone?" she whispers, his hands still firmly on the small of her back.

"Yes." he whispers back, kissing her one more time before she pulls away, his arms dropping slowly at his sides.

Sherlock watches her as she walks out of the kitchen, slowly breathing in and out as he stands alone in the room.  
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"Holmes really isn't coming, huh?" Gregson asks her the minute she walks onto the crime scene. She understands how odd it is for him not to see Sherlock lurking around but she is certain he also understands the reason why he pulled himself away.

"Yeah, he wants to take care of Irene." she speaks, walking further into the house with Gregson by her side.

"How are you holding up?" he asks her, she is suddenly taken aback by his question. "With the whole 'boyfriend's ex being alive' situation?"

"I'm okay…I mean I'm fine with it. I'm glad she's alive, if that's what you're wondering and I'm also glad Sherlock is happy so…"

"Is she staying with you?"

"Yes."

Gregson nods slowly, looking around as they walk around the house. Cops flash pictures of every little bit they can take, Joan is momentarily distracted by the lights and the murmurs but then she focuses on his reaction at her answer. It is as if he wants to say something but doesn't know exactly how.

"I know it's complicated, but she had no place to stay and you know how responsible Sherlock felt about her." Joan speaks.

"Whatever you do, or the way you and Sherlock decide to live is none of my concern." Gregson tells her. "But I don't only consider myself your boss or Holmes', but also a friend. Allow me to voice my concern about what you two are doing with a woman who no longer than a year ago was dead and now she mysteriously shows up, alright? I'm pretty sure Sherlock is smart enough to know when someone's lying, but I'm afraid he's blinded by her and if something happens he will drag you along with it."

"Thank you. I appreciate your concern, but we're fine." she smiles gratefully.

"Okay, I'm glad you know what you're doing. Sherlock, on the other hand…"

"I'm gonna be there to make sure he doesn't do anything crazy."

Though when it came to Irene she isn't sure he would listen.  
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She feels two strong hands on her hips, lips on the exposed skin of her neck. She smiles and leans into the warm body behind her. She loves mornings like this, when he is as tender as he had been the night before, when he always looks for ways to have her close. Just like now.

"Good morning to you, too." she tells him, his lips travelling from her neck and towards the soft spot behind her ear. She turns around so they are face to face, Sherlock's hands tight around her waist.

"I have to go buy something to eat, the fridge is empty and I don't want any of my women to starve." He stops talking when he notices how uncomfortable she is at his words, immediately regretting speaking. "I didn't mean to say it like that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Slip of the tongue, no big deal."

But it is a big deal. No matter how much she tries not to care about Irene being there, she can't help it. She knows she's part of his life, she learned how to live with that when he told her the truth about her, she knew it was going to be hard to fight against a ghost, but it is ten times harder to fight against a woman who is so close now.

"Would you like to come with me?" he asks her, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, someone has to stay with Irene. You go."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. You go and I'll stay in case she needs something, you could use the fresh air, you've been locked in here for hours."

"Alright." he speaks, dropping one more kiss but this time on her lips, which Joan responds to contently. "I'll be back soon."

He is out of the door quickly, Joan looks at her surroundings and sighs. She still can't erase the uneasiness in her heart.

The door leading to Irene's room cracks slowly. Joan turns around to see the woman standing there, just glaring back without saying a word.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Joan asks her. Irene smiles warmly at her, and shakes her head.

"No, you didn't. I've been awake for a while"

"Can I offer you something to drink? A cup of tea?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine." she responds. "Is Sherlock out?"

"Yes, he went to buy something for lunch. He'll be back soon, though." Joan explains. They remain silent for a few seconds, Joan doesn't quite know how to approach the other woman since the last time they were in the same room Sherlock was there.

"He's nice with you." Irene speaks suddenly. Joan frowns at her statement. She is obviously and clearly talking about Sherlock, she feels. "He's nicer to you than he ever was with me. Not that I'm complaining, since what we had was hardly a relationship at all. It was more physical, you know? We spent wonderful hours in bed; he talked non-stop about everything. Does he still do that?"

"I'm sorry I…." Joan swallows hard, shifting on her spot uncomfortably, convinced the only reason why she is talking about this is to make her feel exactly that. "I don't think we should be talking about my relationship with Sherlock."

"Why not? Oh, I get it. It's weird."

"You could say that." Joan whispers.

"I know it's strange, all of this." Irene tells her, taking a few steps towards her. "I know me living under the same roof , with both of you is a bit odd, but I want you to know that I will never get between you and Sherlock. He loves you, perhaps not the same way he loved me…"

Joan shifts again, the conversation getting more and more disturbing by the minute, but Irene doesn't seem to care at all, for she keeps talking. How Joan wishes for Sherlock to be back soon.

"I didn't mean to say that…" Irene immediately apologizes.

"I know what you mean." Joan interrupts her, eyeing her suspiciously. Somehow she can't trust her words at all. "And I will stand by my word, I don't want to discuss my relationship with Sherlock."

"Of course, I understand."

The front door opens, Sherlock walking in with a few paper bags in both hands. He stops midway into the kitchen when he sees both woman standing in front of each other and can sense the tension between them.

"Is everything alright?" he asks.

"Yes, everything is fine." Joan responds. Irene grins weakly at him to then turn around towards her room without another word.

"Did something happen between you two?" Sherlock asks again, dropping the bags on the kitchen table as he speaks.

"No, we were just…talking about things."

"Are you sure? Because she didn't look very happy. Did you ask her something?"

"No. No, I didn't." she quickly responds. "Well now that you're here, I think I better take off. I want to talk with Gregson if he found a new lead."

.

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Mr Stapleton leaves a rose for Irene and everything changes. Sherlock fears there are being watched by Moriarty and Joan doesn't blame him. He has managed to take Irene some place safe, because she is confident he can't handle her being hurt again because of him.

She has her doubts. They are floating slowly and gradually, she wants to think her possessive girlfriend side was showing up but it isn't, not really. She would be lying, though, if having Irene now isn't an issue, because it is. Especially after the conversation they had, which she can't quite get out of her head, no matter how sure she is of Sherlock's love for her. Joan fears Irene is manipulating her into pushing herself away from him and she can't keep the thought away.

"It doesn't make any sense." Joan states. Gregson eyes her as she speaks but listens to her silently. "Why go through all that trouble to mess with Irene's head? All the evidence says Isaac Proctor is a professional, not a psychopath. I just don't understand…"

"Maybe he's still following orders, right?" Bell speaks.

"Maybe…" she whispers, unable to hide her uneasiness.

"Is there something else bothering you? Other than Proctor being inside your house?" Gregson asks her. She shifts on her seat, feeling somewhat exposed to both men but also somewhat eager to voice her concerns.

"I know you might think this is me being a jealous girlfriend but, there's something odd about Irene." she tells them. Both men frown at her words. "We had a strange conversation a few days ago and I can't stop thinking about it. It felt to me as if she was manipulating me into questioning my relationship with him. I know this might seem nothing to either of you but…I don't…I don't think she's good."

She doesn't know exactly how to put her feelings into words without sounding like a woman having a jealous fit, or without sounding like someone who was seeing something that isn't really there. Maybe Irene's intentions are not bad, maybe she is lost, maybe she was expressing her feelings and nothing more than that.

"It's okay if you have doubts about your boyfriend's ex girlfriend." Gregson speaks. "But you have to understand she's been through hell. She was taken away from the man she cared about, locked up for a year and a half away from the world, then to come back and see how everything about her life changed. Perhaps what she needs is space, and time."

"Yeah, you're right." she sighs. "I'm just…worried and can't help but feeling there's something more. Something we're missing about all this."

Before the conversation can continue her phone vibrates in her hand, she looks at it; a text from Sherlock, just half an hour after she send hers, after disappearing from their house. She excuses herself and goes to meet him.

He is sitting in a half dark room, his chair pressed against the corner. She closes the door behind her quickly. There is something completely un-Sherlock-like about his behavior, she can't help but notice, he doesn't greet her like he normally does, he doesn't make eye contact with her when she explains the latest information about the case and he wants to remain as quiet as possible about everything he does. Something deep within her tells her there he is hiding something.

"I'm leaving New York." he speaks suddenly. Joan frowns, taken aback by his words, but understanding the reason of his odd behavior.

"What?"

"I promised Irene I would keep her safe, and that won't happen while she's in here." he explains. Joan's heart crushes inside her chest, feeling anger and sadness rising within her.

"So you're just walking away? Just like that, with no explanation?"

"I came here to explain. I came here to tell you that…." He swallows hard, looking down at his hands resting on his lap momentarily. "I'm sorry, but owe this to her. Everything she went through is because of me, this is my chance to save her."

"What about me?" she asks, silent tears running down her cheeks. "Are you going to walk away and leave me like this?"

"Watson, I love you." he tells her, hoping it would ease the pain but it doesn't. She cries more with each word he speaks. "I love you like I never loved anyone in my entire life. You mean the world to me, but Irene died because of what I've done. Moriarty wants to hurt her in ways I can only imagine and my only intention is to make sure she's safe, that her life won't be destroyed once again. I don't want you to question my feelings for you…"

"This is what he wants." Joan tells him. "This is what Moriarty wants you to do and this is a mistake."  
He slowly gets up from his chair, taking slow steps towards her. His hands reach for her face, caressing her cheeks and wiping away her tears.

"I love you."

"Then don't leave." she pleaded. "Don't let him do this to you, don't let Moriarty win."

"I'm not letting him win. I'm saving a life." he told her. "And perhaps, if you destroy his enterprise while I'm gone, you can save many more."

"Will you…will you come back to me?" she asks in a whisper, swallowing the lump on her throat.

"Always."

He walks away, closing the door behind him without looking back. Joan stands in the middle of the room, covering her face with her hands as she sobs and mourns the loss of him.

**THE END. **

**(sort of)**


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